


Times of remembering and times of wanting

by solarfemm



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Ableism, Crying, Fluff, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marvel Trumps Hate 2020, Multi, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Sappiness, do not copy to another site, hand wavey medical stuff, internalised victim blaming, references to hydra torture and brainwashing, so much crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:54:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27985746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarfemm/pseuds/solarfemm
Summary: When Steve, Sam and Nat find Bucky a year after Insight Day, it's up to Steve to help him get back to himself. It's made harder when Bucky thinks Steve is his handler.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov/Sam Wilson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 49
Collections: Marvel Trumps Hate 2020





	Times of remembering and times of wanting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZepysGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZepysGirl/gifts).



> this was a fill for ZepysGirl for Marvel Trumps Hate, which I loved doing! Thank you for the opportunity to write something I never would have thought of writing!
> 
> beta'd by the amazing 743ish, which was also my Marvel Trumps Hate fill.

The man they find when they stumble into a Hydra base outside Aflou isn’t the furious force of flesh and metal that Steve fought on the helicarrier. He’s not the guy who dragged Steve from the river, either. He’s on the dirty cement floor, curled in on himself, panting and clutching his head. As soon as Steve hears his whimpers, he tries to rush over, but Nat’s arm on his stops him. She’s one of the only two people who could stop him right now.

“Wait, Steve.”

Beside him, Sam puts his hand on Steve’s other arm. “You don’t want to rush this. He could still be a threat.”

Bucky doesn’t look like a threat. There are tears running down his cheeks, his eyes squeezed shut against the pain. Nat takes small, slow steps forward.

“Soldat,” she says, and then speaks again in Russian. She says, “orders,” and “stand down,” and “we’re not here to hurt you.”Steve has picked up some words, mostly from translating the file she gave him, which he refused to digitise. Even Hydra hadn’t digitised it, and it didn’t come out in the files Nat leaked. Steve is so grateful Bucky was given that small amount of privacy. 

Bucky stops whimpering after a few seconds, but he still holds his head to his hands, his whole body shaking. Natasha speaks some more before she kneels down in front of him and puts her hand on his forehead, as if feeling his temperature. He stops shaking at the contact and eventually relaxes.

“That’s good, soldier. Be still.” 

Bucky lets his body sag into the dirt. 

“Can you sit up?”

Bucky nods and gathers himself, pushing himself up onto his knees. His face is a pallid green, sickly. He glances around, his eyes blank. He catches Steve’s eye with that gaze, no recognition on his face, and it’s like DC all over again.

Steve can feel his heart rip open inside his chest. His eyes start to brim with tears, but he can’t look away from what has become of his best friend, of the Bucky he once knew. Bucky’s gaze changes and he frowns, as though confused by Steve’s expression. Steve is trying too hard not to break down crying to hear what comes out of Bucky’s mouth.

“What?” 

It was in Russian, and when Bucky repeats it, it’s in English this time. “Handler, did I do well?”

The silence in the base is absolute. Not a soul for miles beyond their periphery, no wind, no weather to cloud Steve’s understanding of the situation. 

When no one answers, Bucky glances between the three of them, his eyebrows rising higher, his expression growing more concerned. “Did I complete the mission?”

“What mission?” Sam asks, taking the initiative. 

Bucky frowns again and looks down at his hands, as though they might hold the secrets he forgot. The human hand is trembling still, covered in sores, knuckles bloody. “The man on the bridge. Did I complete the mission?”

The three of them glance at each other—in fear, confusion, and horror. Bucky doesn’t remember. He doesn't remember Steve—again—and he doesn’t remember Insight Day. He thinks he’s still a Hydra captive. Steve wants to punch a hole in the wall. He wants to tear down this whole building with his bare hands, and he can, because he’s done that before. Several countries, several bases, several chairs. 

Natasha reaches out for Bucky’s hand and he jerks away with an expression of fear clouding his beautiful features. Steve has never hated anything in that moment as much as he hates Hydra for what they’ve done to Bucky. It’s not fair, he thinks, it’s just not fair. Bucky has never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. He saved Steve time and time again, from schoolyard bullies, from back alley bruisers, and from Hydra, over and over. And Steve couldn’t save him.

“Stay here,” Natasha says, and gets to her feet to come back over to Steve and Sam. They’ve migrated from the doorway to closer into the shelter. The door is still open, casting amber mid-afternoon light over the concrete walls and floor. Steve can’t bear to look at anything inside, because he knows what’s in it. He’s seen the rest of them, torn them to bits, and burnt the rubble. 

“We need to get him out of here,” Nat says to them. 

“Do you think he’d come with us voluntarily?” Sam asks. “He thinks we’re his handlers.” 

“Yeah.” Nat lets out a sigh. “I think we should at least try to get him on the quinjet. He might come quietly.”

“Or he might let loose and try to kill us in an enclosed space.” Sam is wary the way Steve could never be when it comes to Bucky. Nat is perfunctory, professional, seemingly detached, but she has a stake in this too. They all do.

They both look at Steve. Just like with the Avengers, Steve has become their makeshift leader, even at times when he couldn’t bear to be. Their reasoning usually comes down to what Steve feels more than anything—a hunch to go to this country, a change in the wind that leads them down this tunnel. And now here they are. Here Bucky is, too.

“We can risk it,” he says. If Bucky tries to kill him again, Steve is prepared to not let him go without a fight. They’ve come too far for anything else.

Nat walks back over, slowly, with her hands raised in front of her. Bucky snaps his head up. “Soldat, we’re going to leave this place. We need you to come with us.”

Bucky stands immediately, but he sways on the spot, and when he takes a step forward he stumbles. Steve is there in a second, reaching out to steady him.

“Bucky,” he says, more of a quiet exclamation, more of a breath than anything substantial. 

Bucky doesn’t say anything, Steve supporting most of his weight. He takes heavy steps as they lead him out of the base and into the quinjet. 

They get him into a seat, and Natasha says, “We’re going to strap you in, okay?” 

Bucky looks up at her in confusion. 

“Is that alright?” 

Bucky’s confusion doesn’t seem to fade but he nods anyway, refusing to hold eye contact. He looks down at the floor while they strap him in and carefully keeps his hands to himself. His fists are balled on the arm rests as though he’s trying to keep himself in check. Steve wants to hug him, to hold his hand, to kiss him until he feels better, but he knows he can’t. They’re not the same people they were 75 years ago; their relationship isn’t the same. The Bucky Steve knew is gone, and all Steve can do is hope something of him comes back.

He takes the seat next to Bucky and straps himself in as well. Nat gets in the cockpit, but Sam takes one of the seats behind Steve and Bucky, and Steve knows why: it’s to keep an eye on them, in case of emergency. Sam is always there, Steve’s right-hand man, the most dependable soldier a captain could ask for. He feels immensely grateful in that moment to have his partners with him. 

Bucky grips the arm rests as the quinjet starts to take off and out of instinct Steve lays his hand over Bucky’s. Bucky doesn’t jerk away this time, but his grip loosens, and Steve keeps his hand there, squeezing experimentally until Bucky relaxes.

When they’re up in the air, Sam gets out of his seat to forage for rations and brings some over. Steve still has to eat every two hours, that hasn’t changed, and he’s worried that Bucky has to do the same thing. When was the last time he ate? When was the last time he had a meal? What have they been feeding him?

Sam gives Steve a few protein bars and a couple nutrient paste pouches—they taste like bubblegum, so Steve doesn’t complain—and Steve holds one out to Bucky.

“Are you hungry?”

Again with the confused expression. “Yes,” Bucky says, and takes the pouch. He studies it for a second, turning it over in his hand, before he pulls the straw off the pouch and punches it through the foil-covered hole at the top. He looks back at Steve’s hand and the pouch enclosed in it. 

“Oh,” Steve says, realising. “You can eat.” 

Bucky brings the straw to his mouth and begins to drink, his eyes widening at the flavour or the texture, Steve guesses. He finishes the pouch in less than five seconds and hands it back to Steve. He then looks at the protein bars in Steve’s lap, and Steve hands two over. 

Steve drinks his own nutrient pouch while he watches Bucky devour the protein bars. Sam watches them too, and then disappears to grab more food. Steve fights the urge to cry as Bucky wordlessly eats one protein bar after another, clearly starving, handing the foil wrappers back to Steve the way a child does to a parent. 

Back in the war, when he first found Bucky again, Bucky was thin and malnourished from being experimented on for a week. When Steve saw his body again, he was shocked at the scars all over him and the way his bones stuck out. He’d never seen Bucky like that; even during the Depression, Bucky worked enough to bring food home for them, and made sure Steve ate well. 

But after Krausberg, he looked tinier than even Steve had, and Steve wanted to wrap him in cotton balls and shield him from the world. He wanted to snap the neck of every nazi who dared come into contact with Bucky. He knew the war was bigger than just him and the man he loved, because the nazis were doing that to millions of people, not just one, but seeing the truth of what they were doing on Bucky’s skin reignited the fire he had for justice. It spurred him on, and when he was able to fight with Bucky at his side, nothing stopped them. Not even Bucky’s death had been able to stop Steve from completing his mission.

Except, he hadn’t. He hadn’t taken down all of Hydra. The Bucky sitting next to him is proof of that. 

Bucky is halfway through a protein bar when he stops eating. He doesn’t hand it back to Steve, just holds it, chewing slowly. 

“I can take that,” Steve says, holding out his hand.

Bucky’s gaze skitters from Steve’s hand to his face and back to his own hand.

“Or you can keep it, I don’t mind.” 

Bucky frowns again. It must be confusing for him that Steve, who he thinks is his handler, isn’t giving him orders. Steve wonders if he should, if that would make it easier for Bucky to adjust, before he realises how sick that idea makes him. Bucky shifts the protein bar to his right hand, away from Steve. Steve glances out the windshield to see how close they are to landing, and when he glances back the protein bar in Bucky’s hand, along with a few more, have disappeared. His heart sinks at the thought that Bucky would need to hide food.

“How long is the flight?” he calls to Nat.

She turns around to answer. “Four hours 13 minutes. Have some rest, Steve, I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

Sam hovers near them, arms crossed over his chest, gaze wary and watching for Steve’s response.

“It’s okay, Sam,” he says. “If we need anything we’ll let you know.”

Sam nods. “Alright, Steve. I’ll just be up here.” He motions towards the cockpit before he joins Nat there, immediately falling into conversation with her. Steve has always envied the way Sam is with people—easygoing, casual, able to strike up a conversation with anyone and then befriend them—because Steve himself has always had too much on his mind to really be able to make friends. First it was his illnesses, which set him apart from the other kids at school, then it was the Depression, which made living almost unbearable, and then it was war, which consumed him. The only person he’s ever been casual with is Bucky, and now Sam and Nat, but the mission they’ve been on since Insight Day—finding Bucky again—consumed him too. There hasn’t been much else on his mind for over a year.

He looks at Bucky, who is gazing out of the windshield with a lost expression.

“Are you tired?” Steve asks. He doesn’t know how to be around this Bucky. He wishes they could be casual again, but they can’t, not like this.

“No,” Bucky answers immediately, but Steve can tell by the way he holds himself, the lines under his eyes, and the redness clouding them that he’s lying. 

“You can rest, if you’re tired,” Steve says.

“I’m not tired. I’m ready for the next mission, sir.”

The _sir_ tacked on the end of an already heartbreaking sentence resurfaces Steve’s need to punch something. 

“Your only mission is to sleep,” Steve says. “I’ll do it too.”

Steve pulls blankets from under their seats and tucks one around Bucky, who watches him curiously but doesn’t stop him. 

“I’ll sleep then,” Bucky says, tipping his head back and turning his head towards Steve. He closes his eyes, but not all the way; he’s still on guard, his body still tensed. What did they do to him to make him fear even sleeping? Steve wants to be sick, and feels this roiling nausea in his gut that probably won’t leave him for a while. He aches to hold Bucky again, stroke his back and whisper sweet nothings in his ear like they used to when the other was unwell. He at least wants to hold Bucky’s hand, pry open his clenched fist beneath the blanket and slot their fingers together, but that would be forcing on him something Steve wants, when Bucky might not know even _how_ to want. He’ll have to wait until Bucky is better before he can touch him.

And what did Steve expect, anyway? That Bucky would be whole again? That he would be well enough to come with Steve willingly? That he would want to? Steve closes his eyes against the way his throat grows tight, but he can’t keep them closed for long. He watches Bucky pretend to sleep until he is asleep. It takes forty minutes but thanks to Sam and Nat, Steve has learned to be patient to get the things he wants.

* * *

Their first port of call is Avengers Tower, where Tony and his team of doctors can look over Bucky to find out what’s wrong with him and how they can fix it.

Bucky looks nervous as they traipse him through the glaringly white halls of the medical suite, especially when Doctor Englund walks in wearing her white coat. He flinches as she takes off her stethoscope to presses it to his chest.

“It’s okay,” Steve says, a hand on Bucky’s shoulder to ground him. Bucky doesn’t relax, but he doesn’t move away either, and Steve counts that as a win.

Several tests and several hours later, Doctor Englund shows them the scans. Bucky has sat patiently, answered the questions as best he can, and chewed on an assortment of lollipops while Steve fretted in the corner. On the scans, Bucky’s brain is pictured in blue and white, as if something so flimsy as gelatin emulsion could capture the entirety of everything Bucky is. 

“So there is a lot of damage to the neural pathways,” she says, pointing out places in the X-ray. “Which is to be expected, from what you’ve told me. He would definitely have some memory loss, although I’m not sure why exactly he’s reverted back to his memories before he knew who you were.”

Steve gets more and more antsy the longer she talks. “But what can we do about it?”

“Like most things, it will take time and understanding. It’s possible he may never get his memories back.”

The whole time, Bucky has been sitting on the second chair in the doctor’s office, gazing between Dr Englund and Steve as though he’s listening intently.

“Bucky,” Steve prompts, “do you understand what Doctor Englund is telling you?”

Bucky’s gaze snaps to Steve, and for a second Steve thinks he might start crying before a smile turns the corners of his lips up. “Sure I do, Steve. I have a head injury, and I’ve lost my memory. It’ll come back soon, so don’t worry.”

The sudden change from traumatised war veteran to undercover operative makes Steve’s jaw drop. Goddamn, Bucky is good. Even under all this duress, he can play the part better than any spy Steve met in the war. Bucky was _the_ spy in the war. He hunted secrets from top ranking officers, and brought down whole platoons of Hydra soldiers. Of course he’d be able to play this part. 

He smiles again, and it almost looks real. “Don’t worry about me, Steve, really. I promise I’m okay.”

Steve looks away to hide his horrified expression. When he looks up, Dr Englund is smiling. “That’s the spirit, Bucky. I’m sure Steve will take really good care of you.”

* * *

Tony convinces them to stay in the tower, and Steve agrees only because he knows it’s the best thing for Bucky. JARVIS can keep an eye on them, and if anything goes wrong, Tony’s team of doctors are there to help. 

While Bucky has his scrapes and tears tended to by Dr Englund, Steve, Sam and Tony have a word outside. 

“Why so glum, Buttercup?” Tony asks, as obnoxiously as possible. “You got your boy back.”

Steve frowns. “Yeah, I did, but he doesn’t remember me. He thinks I’m his handler. It wasn’t what I expected.”

Tony shrugs. He’s holding a bag of walnuts and pops one into his mouth. It’s not that it’s hard to get him to care about anything, it’s that his feigned insouciance makes Steve want to scream. He thought they were past that, having been on the same team for three years, but apparently not. 

“So play the part of handler,” Tony says. “It’s what he knows. Anything else might make him, you know, loco garbanzo. Even more than he is right now.”

Steve scoffs. Everything Tony does makes him want to throw his hands up in the air. He’s nothing like Howard, and Steve suddenly, so desperately wishes Howard was here with another invention that probably wouldn’t work but would lift Steve’s spirits anyway.

Sam, beside him as ever, is there to back Steve up. “What he needs right now is compassion, not stigma. He needs friends to help him. He doesn’t need more Hydra agents.”

Steve is torn between the two. On one hand, Bucky is lost and confused, and having something he knows could help ground him. On the other hand, Steve would rather chew off his own foot than be the thing that Bucky fears.

Tony pops another walnut into his mouth. “Do what you want. I’ll be working on a memory cure, of course, because I’m that selfless. Might take me a couple days, so don’t go anywhere.” He points between them with a shifty gaze before he takes off down the hall. 

“You good, Steve?” Sam asks. He has his compassionate face on. Contrary to Tony, everything Sam does makes Steve want to hug him. “This is tough, but you two are both stronger than anything you’ve ever faced, which I know is a lot. You’ve always come out the other side. I know Bucky’s been through a lot, and recovery isn’t linear. But he’s here now, right?”

Steve lets out a sigh and feels his shoulders drop. “Yeah, that counts for something.”

Sam pulls him into a one-armed hug and kisses his temple, lips soft and forgiving of all of Steve’s baggage.

The thing is, the thing that helps Bucky could be the very thing that breaks Steve for good.

* * *

As soon as they’re out of the medical suite and riding in the elevator, Bucky reverts back to staring listlessly at nothing. He’s still in the ratty sweater and Army surplus pants he was wearing at the base, because Steve wanted him to be checked out straight away, but now he realises how imperative it is that he get Bucky clean and into nice clothes. 

Steve decides the best thing for him to do is be direct. “When we get up to our floor, you can take a shower and I’ll get you some clothes.”

Bucky nods, breathing steadily through his nose. “What’s the next mission, sir?”

Steve makes another executive decision. “The mission is to stay undercover as Avengers. You and I are going to stay together for a while.”

Bucky nods again and catches Steve’s eye. “Yes, sir.”

“Please don’t call me sir. We’re not handler and—asset on this mission, okay?”

A frown line creases Bucky’s forehead. He still looks 25, as young as the day Steve plucked him off that operating table. “What are we?”

“We’re—” Steve didn’t think this one through. “We’re friends. We live together here in the tower.”

Bucky seems to take that in, because he nods again, and his lips quirk up in a smile. “Tricky mission, to infiltrate the Avengers. You must be one of the best. Not even Rumlow could do that.”

Steve swallows down the bile he can feel creep up his throat. “I am one of the best, and so are you. You’re the best man I know.”

Bucky tilts his head. His piercing gaze stabs Steve right through the chest. “Am I a man on this mission?”

“You’re always a man.” This is a lot harder than Steve thought it would be. He wants to grab Bucky and tell him, “You’re more than a man, you’re the most important person in the world to me, you’re a hero, you’re a lover, you’re the most gentle person I’ve ever met, and you didn’t deserve this,” but he can’t. He can’t do that because Bucky wouldn’t make sense of it. “You’re not an asset anymore.”

“Okay,” Bucky says, accepting it as though it’s just another part of his undercover op. 

“I mean it. Not for this mission, or for any other missions. You’re not an asset, you’re a man. You’re human.”

“Okay,” Bucky says again, his voice placid in the face of Steve’s mounting frustration.

When they get to their floor, Steve shows Bucky to his ensuite. “Towels are here, soap is here, use whatever you like. If you need anything, I’ll be out here. Just yell for me.”

Bucky doesn’t move. “You’re not going to watch?”

Steve sucks in a breath. “Why would I—no, I’m not going to. You have free rein here. You can do whatever you want, you don’t need my permission.”

“To blend in better,” Bucky says, as though figuring it out for himself. “I can play the part. You shouldn’t be nice to me. They’ll hurt you, too.”

Steve’s throat grows tight again. “Please have a shower. I’ll make us food.”

“Okay,” Bucky says, before Steve closes the door. Steve makes it out of the bedroom and into the hallway before he slumps against the wall, breathing through the tears that stream down his face.

* * *

Bucky looks leagues better when he reappears in the pair of sweatpants and NASA hoodie that Steve left out for him. His hair dangles at his shoulders and leaves wet patches on his top, making him look like a bedraggled kitten in the rain. His eyes are still red and there’s a definite droop to the corners of his mouth. Steve puts on a happy face and doles out the two dozen eggs and a pound of bacon he cooked up, one of the only things he knows how to make without burning the kitchen down. Bucky was always the cook between them, and even with the entire internet at his fingertips, Bucky still has Steve beat.

Bucky stays standing by the table as Steve sits. 

“Are you hungry?” Steve asks. 

Bucky waits a few seconds before nodding. 

“Oh,” Steve says, realising. He doesn’t want to order Bucky around, so instead of “You can sit,” he says. “Come and sit with me.”

Bucky takes a seat at the end of the table, as far away from Steve as he can get. Steve pushes the plate full of eggs and bacon towards him, stuffing down the feeling of needing to scream. He anticipates that he’s going to be doing that a lot. Bucky picks up his fork, but waits until Steve starts eating to eat himself, shovelling food into his mouth as though it’s only for sustenance, and not to be enjoyed. 

Steve makes up his mind that he’s going to show Bucky things to enjoy. This can be his new beginning, his new life as someone Steve can take care of and show the world to. A line from _Aladdin _pops into his head and he giggles, involuntarily and little hysterically.__

__At the end of the table, Bucky jumps and drops his fork._ _

__“Shit!” Steve says, which just makes Bucky lean back in his chair, as though stuck between wanting to get away and fearing leaving for getting hurt. Fuck, Steve is so bad at this. “Sorry, Bucky, I’m—shit. I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay?”_ _

__Bucky’s eyes are wide and he’s breathing heavily, but he nods. He takes deep breaths to steady himself, and Steve watches him physically relax._ _

__“I’m fine,” he says, picking his fork back up. He starts eating again, but it’s slower, and he holds his body as if poised to bolt at the slightest movement from Steve._ _

__They eat in tense silence, and as the seconds tick by Steve gets more and more anxious, more and more sad. “Are you enjoying the eggs?” he asks hopefully._ _

__Bucky glances up quickly and then back down. “Yes,” he says, through a mouthful. Steve can’t tell whether it’s a lie. Any ticks Bucky used to have are gone, or else transformed into a language Steve can no longer decipher._ _

__“I can add more cayenne pepper if you like, or more salt,” Steve says._ _

__Bucky stops eating as Steve talks, then says, “It’s good. I like it. Thank you for making it.”_ _

__Steve pushes his eggs around his plate. “You don’t have to like it just because I made it. You can decide for yourself.”_ _

__“I have decided I like it,” Bucky says, with an air of finality. Steve snorts in laughter, but Bucky doesn’t jump this time._ _

__“That’s great,” Steve says, and Bucky goes back to eating. When they’ve finished, Steve takes their plates and stacks them in the dishwasher, thinking all the while._ _

__What is his plan, exactly? He glances back at the table where Bucky is sitting still, staring at his hands in front of him. The human one is scratched up from doing god knows what, covered in still-healing scabs, nails broken and ripped off, and the other is a pristine, gun-metal grey, beautiful in its intricacy. How is Steve supposed to bring Bucky back to himself, when there may not be a self to bring him back to?_ _

__He rinses his hands in the sink and wipes them on his jeans, which are dirty enough that the dirt on them gets on his wet hands. _Gross._ He comes back out to the table and Bucky glances up at him, clearly waiting for more orders._ _

__“I’m going to get washed up,” Steve says. “Do you want to watch a movie?”_ _

__Bucky blinks up at him, and Steve waits for his reply. He’s not going to push, and if it takes Bucky 20 minutes to make up his mind, then Steve will wait._ _

__“Yes,” he says, after 12 seconds._ _

__“Great! Let’s go.” He points in the direction and Bucky follows him to the end of the apartment. The entertainment room is bigger than their entire 1936 apartment, and the first time Steve stayed here he hated it for its decadence. In typical lavish Tony Stark style, it’s full of plush armchairs and chaise lounges, as well as one long sofa at the back wall. The red carpet beneath their feet bleeds onto the walls, making Steve feel as though he’s living inside a red blood cell. “JARVIS?”_ _

__“Good evening, Captain,” JARVIS says, as the screen on the wall blinks into existence._ _

__Bucky doesn’t seem surprised. He glances around the room quickly, doing an obvious assessment of the surroundings in case of danger._ _

__“Hi JARVIS. What movie should we watch?”_ _

__“A fine question, Captain. I have prepared a list for you.”_ _

__Steve motions to the sofa and Bucky takes a seat. Steve picks up the tablet on the arm of the sofa and scrolls through the list, stopping at the first thing he sees that interests him. “Great. I’m going to have a shower,” he says to Bucky, who blinks up at him._ _

__“What should I do?” Bucky asks._ _

__“Um,” Steve says, torn between the impossible choices he’s given. “If you want to, you can stay here and watch the movie. Or you can watch something else. Or you can do whatever you’d like to do. JARVIS can help you decide.”_ _

__Bucky frowns and glances away. Steve doesn’t want to confuse him, but the thought of ordering Bucky around makes his skin crawl. Luckily the movie plays and Bucky gets distracted, so Steve can slip out of the room and down the hall._ _

__“Hey, JARVIS?”_ _

__“How can I be of assistance, Captain?”_ _

__Steve glances around in case Bucky is right behind him. He gets into his room without attracting any suspicion. “Keep an eye on Bucky. If he starts to panic or—or, I don’t know, anything, let me know, okay?”_ _

__“Of course, Captain. Should I prevent the elevator from stopping at this floor?”_ _

__Steve feels queasy at the thought, but he agrees. “Yes. Just—let me know if he does anything.”_ _

__“Of course, Captain.”_ _

__Steve thought he would never get used to a disembodied voice watching him as he showers, but it’s just one more thing he’s dealt with while living in the 21st Century. It turns out he was worried for nothing, because when he comes back into the entertainment room, freshly showered and dressed in a comfortable flannel and joggers, Bucky’s entire attention is on the screen. He doesn’t even look at Steve when Steve sits down on the other end of the sofa._ _

__A warm sensation spreads through his chest as he watches Bucky watch the movie, and by the time the Genie sings “Friend Like Me”, Steve knows what he has to do._ _

__He has to get Bucky back._ _

* * *

__He wakes up bright and early the next day, full of resolve. It’s the first morning in over a year he hasn’t been worn down by the eternal search for Bucky, because Bucky is here. Bucky is with Steve again, sleeping in the spare room of Steve’s suite, just next door, in fact. The fact of this blindsides him, full to the brim as he is with happiness. He wants to walk into Bucky’s room and wake him up just to see his smiling face—except Bucky hasn’t smiled for real since Steve found him again._ _

__Instead of worrying either one of them into knots, Steve pulls out his phone, opens up his notes app, and starts to type._ _

___**Ways to get Bucky back** _ _ _

__Before he can type any more, JARVIS’s voice descends from the heavens._ _

__“Captain, Sergeant Barnes is awake.”_ _

__Steve hadn’t asked JARVIS to remind him of that. “Okay?”_ _

__“He is agitated and on alert.”_ _

__“Shit.” Steve springs out of bed and bounces out of his room. Bucky’s heartbeat is loud through the door, jackrabbiting up, his footsteps sounding on the soft carpet as he paces through the room. “Bucky? Bucky, it’s Steve. Can I come in?”_ _

__Bucky’s pacing stops, but his heartbeat is still elevated. “Why are you asking?” His voice trembles. “I don’t know what you want from me.”_ _

___Shit, shit, shit._ “Bucky, I’m coming in.”_ _

__He opens the door to find Bucky crouching in the corner of the room, his eyes wide and fearful. Steve immediately drops to his haunches and puts his hands up to show there’s nothing in them, to show he’s not the threat Bucky thinks he is._ _

__“Bucky, hey, it’s okay. Remember what we talked about? We’re not handler and asset on this mission. Do you remember that?”_ _

__The only light in the room is coming through the open door. Bucky nods slowly, but he doesn’t look any less fearful._ _

__“That’s right. We’re friends now, and friends ask each other things. Friends respect boundaries. So if you want me to leave, I’ll leave. You just have to tell me.”_ _

__Steve holds his breath for the half a minute that Bucky takes to answer. Bucky’s heart rate slows and his breathing evens out as he takes stock of the situation._ _

__“I don’t want you to leave,” Bucky says. “But if you keep being nice to me, they’ll kill you. You know that, right? You’re not the only one who’s been nice to me.”_ _

__Steve swallows down the sob that tries to escape him. “I promise they won’t get to me.” He puts on his best Captain America voice. “Do you understand? They won’t hurt me, and they’ll never hurt you again.”_ _

__Bucky looks dubious but he nods._ _

__“Will you please come out of your room?”_ _

__Bucky nods again, standing. Steve does the same, backing out of the room and giving Bucky enough of a berth that he doesn’t feel frightened. He blinks his eyes as he adjusts to the light in the hallway. Steve breathes easier, and turns to walk down the hallway before Bucky stops him._ _

__“Wait.”_ _

__Steve turns to see Bucky shuffling his feet, looking down as though embarrassed, but when he looks up it’s with clear-eyed intent._ _

__“Friends hug, right?”_ _

__Steve nods, slowly, his brain not up to fighting fit so soon after waking, and so soon after being surprised by Bucky’s reaction to waking up in the tower with seemingly no life support._ _

__“Can we hug?”_ _

__Steve steps forward immediately, circling his arms around Bucky’s shoulders. As he feels Bucky’s hands settle on his back, something in him breaks like water bursting through a dam._ _

__“Thanks, Steve,” Bucky says, softly, as though the words are a gift in his mouth._ _

__Just hearing his own name in Bucky’s voice, after 70 years of nothing, after 70 years of Bucky being dead, after four years of having almost no one—Steve can’t fight the tears any longer. He weeps into Bucky’s shoulder, as though he’s the one that needs the help and not Bucky._ _

__In reply, Bucky’s hands tighten on his back. “It’s okay, Steve,” he says, softly, simply. “It’s okay. I’m here.”_ _

__And he is. Once again, he’s saving Steve._ _

* * *

__By the time they’ve both showered and eaten breakfast, Steve is back on the plan._ _

__“I thought we’d go out for some fresh air,” Steve explains._ _

__Bucky is playing with a Rubik's Cube like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. He glances up with that owlish expression. “Okay.”_ _

__“Is that something you want to do?”_ _

__Bucky shrugs. “I don’t care.”_ _

__“Okay, great!”_ _

__It’s cold out, so along with clothes, Steve lends Bucky a coat and a pair of loafers. Bucky’s feet are bigger than Steve’s, and Steve doesn’t want to make him wear the mangled boots he found Bucky in, so he makes a mental note to find something else._ _

__When they step outside, the cold air hits them like a brick. In truth, Steve loves it. He loves anything that makes him feel physical sensations, because it reminds him he’s alive. He looks over to see Bucky zipping his coat up to his chin, and it’s so cute that it makes Steve laugh._ _

__Bucky’s eyes widen a fraction before a small grin makes the sides of his mouth quirk up, and Steve almost loses his mind._ _

__“What?” Bucky asks, that small grin in place._ _

__“Nothing, Buck,” he says, smiling back. “You look great.”_ _

__Bucky waits for Steve to continue walking, and Steve does, the elation of making Bucky smile buoying him as they ride the subway. He thought Bucky might be skittish, hesitant to be out in public with this many people around, but he doesn’t seem to mind. They walk close, their arms bumping, and even that small thing is enough to lift Steve’s spirits higher than they’ve been since—since he met Sam in D.C._ _

__Jesus, he thinks. Has it really been that long since anything good happened to him? Has anything good besides meeting Sam and Natasha and finding Bucky happened to him since he woke up? He shakes his head to clear his thoughts. It’s just enough that Bucky is back. Steve can’t possibly ask for any more._ _

__What he can do is enjoy Bucky’s reaction when they reach Prospect Park Beach. He takes one look at the dogs running amok and his jaw drops open._ _

__“ _Dogs_ ,” he says, turning to Steve with an incredulous expression. “There’re so many!”_ _

__“Yeah, Buck.” Steve chuckles. “Do you want to see if you can pet some of them?”_ _

__“ _Yes_.” Instead of waiting for Steve to go first, he grabs Steve’s hand and yanks him forward. As they near the gaggle of various breeds of dogs, Bucky drops to his knees. A couple of them swarm him; a labrador licks his face and a shih tzu tries to physically climb into his lap, which makes him laugh. “Hi,” he says, his voice soft again, “hi there, hello.” _ _

__Steve is lucky he got his crying session out of the way an hour ago, because this display of humanity and Bucky’s adoring expression as he plays with the dogs is enough to undo Steve again. He stays by Bucky’s side, patting the bigger dogs that run up to them as their owners watch, some annoyed and some anxious. It doesn’t matter what they think: he’s not pulling Bucky away for anything._ _

__Eventually he sits down, and Bucky moves to sit beside him. Even though the dogs come and go, Bucky seems to be happy to just watch them in companionable silence. They spend a little over an hour there, Bucky rapt with attention, until he turns to Steve with a curious expression._ _

__“What is it?” Steve asks. His face grows hot at the scrutiny; Bucky always had a way of making him blush._ _

__“You remind me of someone,” Bucky says. Steve’s good mood plummets as Bucky picks his next words. “Of someone I used to know. But I don’t know who.” His brow furrows as he tries to remember. “He was so kind. I think they killed him.”_ _

__Steve swallows past the lump in his throat. “No one is going to hurt me, Buck, I promise.”_ _

__When Bucky smiles this time, it’s sad and a little desperate with hope. “They won’t get you,” he says, and this time Steve can tell it’s a lie._ _

* * *

__Bucky, curled into a corner of the sofa, resembles more of a ball than a human. His mouth is open and his face is scrunched up at whatever he’s dreaming about. It can’t be good. Nothing that’s happened to him in the last 70 years is good. Bucky fell asleep four movies into a Pixar marathon, despite how much he seemed to be enjoying himself._ _

__He snuffles a little, and Steve has to look away, just for a moment. When he does, Bucky jolts awake and his hand snakes out to grab Steve’s arm._ _

__“Bucky,” Steve says, more surprised than anything else. Bucky’s grip on him doesn’t hurt. It’s more just to make Steve aware of him._ _

__Bucky’s eyes go wide, he lets go, and then he shuffles back on the sofa. “Sorry,” he says, his voice gruff, much rougher than Steve remembers._ _

__“It’s okay. You didn’t break anything. And it would heal even if you did.” Steve spares him a smile that Bucky doesn’t return. “I’m gonna have a snack, if you’re hungry.”_ _

__Steve lets Bucky choose to follow him and leads the way to the kitchen counter, where he starts putting toast into the six-slice toaster and pulling out stuff from the fridge. Nutella, peanut butter, fresh berries, Cool Whip, butter, avocado, hummus, goat cheese, honey—they have so many choices. The future is amazing. He’s not sure what Bucky would like, so he puts them all in front of him._ _

__Bucky’s eyes are wide looking at all the possibilities. He glances up at Steve sheepishly. “I’m hungry,” he says, simply, as though continuing on their conversation from ten minutes before._ _

__“That’s great!” He read somewhere that you should praise children with the specific thing they’ve done right. Even though Bucky is not a child, he almost is—he has no memories except of what Hydra did to him, and aside from the beach yesterday, he hasn’t had any positive experiences he could call his own. “Thank you for telling me that.”_ _

__A smile crinkles the corners of his eyes and Steve’s chest swells with joy._ _

__“I’d like berries and whipped cream,” Bucky says, and Steve could cry._ _

__“You can have anything you want.” He chops up the berries on a cutting board and spreads them across two pieces of toast, before he pushes the plate and the tub of Cool Whip over to Bucky._ _

__Bucky keeps glancing between the food and Steve, as though worried Steve will take it away from him, before he starts spreading Cool Whip on the berries. Steve glances away and starts preparing his own toast. Bucky doesn’t need Steve gawking at him while he’s trying to eat; Steve knows what it’s like to have his life under a microscope, to be papped every time he eats out at a restaurant, to have to sign autographs every time he orders takeout. He prepares his own toast (avocado and goat cheese with cracked pepper) and they eat in a different silence than yesterday. It’s companionable, and Steve gets the feeling if Bucky wanted to he would say something._ _

__He glances over when Bucky finishes eating. He’s got whipped cream smeared across his mouth and he tries to get it off with the back of his hand._ _

__Steve laughs, pointing out the part he didn’t get. “You missed a spot,” he says. Bucky tries again, and misses again. “Here.” Steve reaches out and swipes his thumb over the last spot near Bucky’s mouth. He’s about to wipe his thumb on his jeans when Bucky snatches his hand out of midair and sucks Steve’s thumb into his mouth._ _

__The feeling of Bucky’s plush tongue pressing against the pad of Steve’s finger and the wet heat of Bucky’s mouth have Steve going from zero to hero in the span of a second. Luckily Bucky lets go of Steve’s hand and he can pull it back, but it doesn’t diminish what’s happening in his pants._ _

__“Uh,” he says, eloquently. He’s hidden by the kitchen island between them, but he still turns his body away slightly._ _

__It’s not just that Bucky is here again, and the last time they were in such close quarters they were—how did Clint put it one time? Oh yeah—banging each other’s brains out, because finding him as a shell of himself was enough to dampen the flames of Steve’s desire. Even though Steve is with Sam and Natasha now, he hasn’t stopped longing for Bucky. He never did, and when he realised that Bucky was alive again, longing for him came second only to finding him._ _

__And now here Steve is, Bucky in front of him, trying to pretend he doesn’t have a boner because his long-dead boyfriend ate whipped cream off his finger._ _

__“Can I have some more?” Bucky asks._ _

__“Jeez, Buck. You don’t have to ask.” Steve pushes the cartons of berries and another two slices of toast towards him. Steve watches him slice the berries and dollop the Cool Whip on top of them, spreading it around with care and precision as if he’s icing a cake. Steve does a good job of ignoring his erection until Bucky smears whipped cream on his nose as he takes a bite of toast, but now he’s painfully hard and unsure what to do about it. It feels a little gauche to leave Bucky here while Steve jerks off to him in the bathroom._ _

__So instead he just busies himself making more toast while Bucky finishes his breakfast, making happy noises that go straight to Steve’s heart._ _

__Bucky smiles at him as he swallows his last mouthful. “That was delicious,” he says, pushing his plate away. “Thank you, sir.”_ _

__Steve wilts like bibb lettuce. Pressure builds behind his eyeballs like a kettle about to boil over. “Please don’t call me sir. It’s just Steve.”_ _

__Bucky smiles again. “Steve.”_ _

__Steve opens his mouth to—say something, apologise, break down crying—when JARVIS speaks._ _

__“Captain Rogers, Mr Stark is on his way to see you.”_ _

__Steve clears the feelings caught in his throat with a cough. “Thanks, JARVIS.” He clears away the food while Bucky eats the last of the berries. The way he eats serves to calm Steve’s mounting anxiety. He’s not sure how much more of this he can take, but watching Bucky enjoy something, really enjoy it with no strings attached, is one of the high points of the life he’s been living in the future. The path to where they are now was fucking awful, but they’re here, and Steve gets to be alive with Bucky at the same time, and that is wonderful._ _

__When he finishes putting the bread in the bread box he turns to see Bucky pushing the almost-empty carton of strawberries over to him._ _

__“I saved the last one for you,” he says, with a sincerity that guts Steve completely. His eyes crinkle and there’s something so soft in the way he looks at Steve._ _

__“Thanks,” Steve says, picking the last strawberry out of the carton. “Thank you, Buck, that’s really nice of you.”_ _

__“You’re nice to me,” Bucky says, simply. “You’re the nicest—man I know.”_ _

__He noticed the way Bucky caught himself, and he’s thankful, because maybe Bucky is starting to think of Steve as only his friend, and not his handler. “Thank you.”_ _

__“I don’t know many people, though, so that’s setting the bar real low.”_ _

__The dry tone surprises a laugh out of Steve, and then Bucky smiles at his own joke too, and it’s such a nice moment that Steve forgets to eat his strawberry._ _

__“I think I need to sleep,” Bucky says. His gaze is drowsy and he’s drooping over the countertop._ _

__“Go sleep.”_ _

__Bucky nods and trudges off and ten minutes later Tony appears, strutting into their apartment like—well, like he owns the place. He’s got a helmet in his hands, which looks like a series of wires constructed into a semi-sphere. Steve moves from where he’s standing motionless in the kitchen, staring at nothing and lost in his thoughts, and follows Tony into the living room._ _

__“Cap,” Tony says, casting his gaze around the apartment. “Where’s Jason Bourne?”_ _

__“Asleep,” Steve says, and he’s amazed he can keep his tone curt and not outright hostile. “What have you got for me?”_ _

__“Just the answer to your prayers.” Tony holds up the helmet with a flourish. “Knocked it up yesterday, had to run a few tests, and now I can remember how to play the piano. Technology is amazing.”_ _

__Steve crosses his arms. There’s always a catch to these kinds of things. “What’s it going to take?”_ _

__“A little zip, a little zap, and your boy will be good as new.”_ _

__Tony says it so flippantly, _zap_ , that Steve almost double-takes. “No fuckin’ way.”_ _

__Tony’s eyes bulge. “Steve! You said a bad word.”_ _

__“You’re not going anywhere near him with something like that.”_ _

__“It won’t even hurt! It’s just like a little shock. Bzzt. He’s been through worse.”_ _

__Steve’s anger flares and he can’t help but push into Tony’s space, towering over him while Tony bites his tongue and pretends not to be intimidated. “Don’t you _ever_ say anything like that again. Bucky is _a person_ , not a machine that you can poke and prod at and fix with a little engineering.”_ _

__“Oh, okay,” Tony says, rolling his eyes so hard his whole body goes with it, “just let him stew in his misery, no, go ahead, that’s the best situation for him.”_ _

__Steve breathes through his nose, feeling like a bull about to be let loose in a china shop. “If you think I’m letting that thing anywhere near him, you’ve got another thing coming.”_ _

__Steve can hear his own voice rise, but he can’t help it. He’s so angry he feels like he’s about to burst like a grenade, and if only he was, then he could take Tony down with him._ _

__Tony opens his mouth on a retort but they’re both interrupted._ _

__“Steve?” Bucky’s wearing Steve’s pajamas, his hair ruffled from the second time he’s slept today, and he stands in the hallway looking between them as though he’s caught his parents fighting._ _

__“Buck, hey,” Steve says, moving towards him. Bucky’s hands reach out as if on instinct, pulling Steve towards him. He shoots a dangerous glare at Tony, and Steve sees Tony visibly flinch._ _

__“Well, I guess I’ve outstayed my welcome, in my own house. Don’t thank me for letting you crash here or anything,” Tony says, as he struts back off towards the door. “Using my tv and eating my food and consulting my doctors. It’s no big deal!”_ _

__The door closes behind him with a _snick_ that Steve doesn’t find as satisfying as slamming the receiver down on a rotary phone. He realises that Bucky is still touching him when he squeezes Steve’s arm. His eyes are bright and round, an ocean roiling in them as he tries to gather his thoughts._ _

__“I had a shitty dream.”_ _

__“I’m sorry.”_ _

__“Don’t be. I was glad you woke me.”_ _

__Bucky’s fingers are calloused but healing, rough on the soft skin of Steve’s arm. He rubs them through the hair there, still looking at Steve’s face, his eyes, his mouth, as though he’s looking for answers. Steve doesn’t know what to say._ _

__“Will you hug me again?” Bucky asks, his voice hushed, soft. Steve pulls him in immediately, and his hands go around Bucky’s back while Bucky’s face tucks into Steve’s collarbone._ _

__Steve remembers the helicarriers. He remembers the bridge, and the scene in the street when his whole world came crashing down. He remembers Bucky’s flying fists, his interminable rage, and the stillness that came before it when Bucky was doing what he’d been ordered to do. How could Steve forget? How could Steve forget anything about seeing Bucky again?_ _

__But this Bucky, the Bucky Steve found on the base floor, has been nothing but sweet and kind. Even when he was scared, even when he didn’t know what was going on, he didn’t lash out or hurt anyone. He hasn’t hurt Steve, intentionally or not._ _

__For the last year, Steve has thought about nothing but Bucky. What Bucky’s doing, what he’s eating, if he’s resting, where he’s going. He chased the ley lines, from DC to Bangladesh to Albarracin, that snaked through the earth and clung at his feet to lead him back to Bucky. He chased the ghost of the Bucky he knew through several continents and twice around the world, and found a different ghost, someone hollowed out from the inside._ _

__Except, not completely. Bucky still has wants, desires. This Bucky’s default _is_ to be sweet and kind. And Steve still has him, here in his arms, right now._ _

__“I feel safe with you,” Bucky admits. He twists his head slightly to breathe it into Steve’s neck._ _

__“You’re always safe with me,” Steve says._ _

__Bucky sighs and squeezes Steve’s shoulders. They stay like that for a long time._ _

* * *

__The next morning, Steve wakes bright and early to find Bucky in the kitchen making breakfast. He’s stirring a pot of something on the stove that smells like cinnamon and cooked milk, and Steve’s stomach grumbles at the scents mixing together._ _

__“You know how to work the stove?” Steve asks, still blinking gunk out of his eyes. It took him two days to figure it out when he first moved in._ _

__“I know how to fly all 10 active combat aircraft in the United States Air Force, Steve,” Bucky says with a laugh, “I think I can figure out a stove.”_ _

__It takes a second for Steve to realise that Bucky laughed. He laughed at something Steve said. He _laughed_. Steve wants to hear that sound for the rest of his life. _ _

__As he takes a seat at the table, Bucky turns the stove off and dishes out two bowls of thick, steaming oatmeal, exactly the way Steve likes it. Steve feels his interest pique, and he wonders if Bucky remembers that or if he just guessed. Maybe it was buried in his unconscious somewhere from all the times he made it back before the war, because it was the only thing they could afford, and it was hearty enough to keep Steve in good spirits when he was sick. Bucky has always cared for him. It’s about time Steve returned the favour._ _

__“Here you go,” Bucky says, placing one of the bowls down in front of Steve. He’s topped the oatmeal with nuts and seeds, the kinds Steve saw in the cupboard but couldn’t be bothered Googling to figure out what they were and how he should use them. Buck takes a seat to Steve’s left and digs in, unheeding of the heat._ _

__Steve takes it slower, mixing the oatmeal around until he finds lumps of fruit that he digs out with his spoon, then blowing on them before he pops them in his mouth. He lets out a noise of contentment at the taste, because it tastes as good as it smells, and Bucky glances over with a look of joy._ _

__“Good?”_ _

__“So good,” Steve says. “You always knew how to cook, but this is next-level. Must be the better ingredients.”_ _

__A line appears between Bucky’s eyebrows. “When would I have cooked? On another mission?”_ _

__“No, I—I must’ve been thinking of someone else,” Steve says, mumbling as he gets to the end of his sentence._ _

__Bucky doesn’t look convinced. He sighs. “Friends don’t lie to each other.” It’s the most human reaction Steve’s seen from him so far, and it transports him almost a hundred years past to when Bucky would stand outside Steve’s window, hollering up at him from the street about how Steve said he was okay to go to Rockaway Beach and now he’s got an infection, and who’s fault is that, _Steven?_ _ _

__Steve takes a breath. “You’re right. We’ve known each other for a while. Almost a hundred years.”_ _

__“Oh,” Bucky says, frowning harder. “I don’t remember that.” He takes in a sharp breath. “I don’t remember anything that happened to me after I woke up in that facility, and then you came along. And suddenly I have a whole new life?”_ _

__Steve puts his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, grateful when Bucky doesn’t flinch away. “I know it’s a lot to take in—”_ _

__“Do you? Have you ever woken up an amnesiac?”_ _

__The words sting, and Steve draws his hand back as though bitten. “No, but I’ve known you most of my life. You’ve known me most of your life. I can help you get your memories back, if you let me.”_ _

__“Who says I want them back?” Bucky asks, a note of panic in his voice. “I remember some of what they did to me—what Hydra did, but—if I get all my memories back, I’ll remember the rest of that, too.”_ _

__Steve reaches out for his hand but Bucky pulls it back._ _

__“Why didn’t you tell me the truth? When we first came here, or on the plane. You kept that from me.” He sounds angry, his brow furrowed. He’s showing his agency by being something other than placid and accepting everything Steve says as truth, and Steve is proud, hopeful and hurt all at the same time._ _

__“I didn’t want to confuse you.” It’s the only answer Steve has at the moment._ _

__“But you lied to me. Friends don’t lie to each other.”_ _

__“I can tell you the truth now.”_ _

__Bucky nods._ _

__“We grew up together. We’ve been friends for a long time.” It pains Steve to get the words out, but it also feels like a release after bottling them up for three days._ _

__Bucky takes a minute to digest this. “That’s why I feel comfortable with you.” He smiles, a sad, wan thing. He pushes his oatmeal around absentmindedly. “I get the feeling you wouldn’t hurt me, even if I deserved it.”_ _

__“Deserved it?” Steve feels close to throwing his oatmeal at the wall, but it would only serve to scare Bucky and ruin the nice breakfast he made them. “Bucky, you don’t deserve anything Hydra did to you. You were a—a victim. Do you get that?”_ _

__Bucky is back to frowning. “If I didn’t deserve it, then why did they hurt me?” His voice is soft, delicate. He sounds like he’s a second away from crying, his big eyes gleaming in the sunlight shining through the windows._ _

__Steve can’t believe he’s hearing this from Bucky’s own mouth. It’s going to rip him in two. “Because they’re evil, and they used you. They just wanted to hurt people, and you were one of the people they hurt. You didn’t do anything to deserve being hurt. No one deserves that.” Even as he says it, he knows it’s not true: anyone who did that to Bucky deserves to be hurt in the same way. It’s a sick kind of hamster wheel that Steve could go mad on if he let himself._ _

__When he glances up, Bucky’s sadness has transformed into concern. “I’m sorry I made you upset,” he says, and Steve’s heart constricts. Even though Bucky is the one missing memories, even though Bucky is the one who went through everything he’s been through, he’s still worried about Steve. Steve can’t love this man any more than he does; it’s just not possible._ _

__Steve almost says, “I’m not upset,” but that’s a lie, and he’s not going to lie to Bucky. “You didn’t make me upset,” he says, with a steadying sigh. His brains feel like the oatmeal they’re eating, soft and mushy with no glue to hold them together. “I’m upset at what Hydra did to you, that’s all.”_ _

__“But you like the oatmeal?” Bucky asks, hopeful, a little hesitant._ _

__Steve gives him a smile, a fond, happy smile, that nowhere near encompasses everything he feels for Bucky. “I love it.”_ _

__Bucky moves his arm until it knocks against Steve’s, and just that tiny gesture is enough to pull Steve off the hamster wheel and set him upright again._ _

* * *

__After breakfast, Steve leads them on another walk through the city. Again, Bucky seems happy to tag along, although he sticks close enough that their arms knock as they walk. But somehow, in helping Bucky acclimatise to reality, Steve forgot how difficult it’s been for _him_. For the last year, he’s been on a non-stop manhunt for Bucky, constantly looking around corners and knocking over boulders in case Bucky is there. He can’t help the feeling that he’s being watched, even though they’ve done their best to snuff out the last embers of whatever Hydra had burning after Insight Day—Sam, Nat, Steve _and_ Bucky. They’ve been on the same team this whole time._ _

__Steve steals glances at him as they walk, watching his expressions turn from varying shades of neutral and then to happy when he catches Steve watching him. Now Steve’s the one caught out, and he finds he doesn’t mind. It’s not the same scrutiny he gets from Sam, who mostly worries about him, or Natasha, who mostly worries about them, but is also smart enough to cover her own ass when shit gets real—unlike Steve, who goes down swinging every time. Bucky’s gaze is a comforting warmth. Steve wants him to look; he needs it._ _

__When they get to the Pixar exhibit, Bucky’s face lights up with nothing short of childlike glee. “It’s Nemo.” He looks at Steve as if to say, _can you believe that?__ _

__Steve laughs. “I know, Buck, that’s why we’re here.”_ _

__Bucky’s expression turns into one of determination. “Okay, then,” he says, and proceeds to lead Steve around the entire Pixar Exhibit. They play at the Face Rigging Station, get pictures with Wall-E, and study the water simulation. Bucky doesn’t stop smiling the whole time, and Steve feels like he might be saving Bucky again._ _

__By the time they’ve gone through the whole exhibit, Steve’s stomach is rumbling again. “Do you want to get some food?” he asks. Bucky glances longingly at the posters as they descend on the escalator. He looks tired though, and Steve thinks there’s no way he could possibly sleep enough after being deprived of it for so long._ _

__“Can we come back again?”_ _

__“Of course we can. We can come back tomorrow if you like. The exhibit is open all winter.”_ _

__Bucky smiles again and puts his head on Steve’s shoulder. Steve puts his hand on Bucky’s back and they stay like that for the fifteen seconds it takes them to reach the ground. Steve doesn’t want Bucky to pull away, but they can’t stay like that forever. And isn’t it better to have something amazing for a short time than not have it at all? He was alone for so long, three whole years where he put all of himself into missions, shaking hands with senators, and going home to an empty apartment in DC. It’s nice to have a change._ _

__They get hoagies from a deli near the Tower and take them up to their suite where they devour them watching the first minute of _Up_. Steve thought maybe Bucky would have enough of Pixar for the day but he suggests it after seeing a poster at the exhibition. It’s one they haven’t seen before and Steve is so happy that Bucky is making decisions for himself that he goes along with it._ _

__Unfortunately, they spend the first act of the film bawling their eyes out. Steve would be worried about Bucky but he’s too focused on the way he felt after Bucky fell from the train that he can’t see past his own retroactive grief. He forgets, just for a second, that Bucky isn’t really dead, even if the person he used to be is gone. Bucky reaches over to pull Steve against him until Steve’s head is resting on Bucky’s shoulder, a mirror to earlier in the day. Steve wants to stop crying after that, but he can’t. He’s cried so much over Bucky, what’s one more hour?_ _

__Bucky himself is wiping his tears on the back of his hand, his metal arm curled around the hump of Steve’s shoulder, his pinkie rubbing against Steve’s bare arm. The metal is cool to the touch and the sensation grounds Steve in the present, pulling him back from the stormcloud of his thoughts._ _

__“Thanks, Buck,” he says, his voice thick with snot. Bucky’s shoulder is a wall of warmth, and he smells like Steve’s shower gel. He also smells like he hasn’t washed his hair in months, but Steve is willing to forgive that._ _

__“I’m here for you, Steve,” he says, plainly. “As long as you need me.”_ _

__“I always need you,” Steve says, realising as he says it it’s true._ _

__Bucky is still rubbing Steve’s arm in soft, sure movements. He pauses the film by pressing the tablet screen. “Do you want to tell me about it?”_ _

__Steve nods. It’s a mark of how much Sam’s friendship has had an effect on him that he doesn’t immediately bottle everything up. “Yeah, actually. I missed you a lot. We weren’t together for a long time. Even though I only woke up from the ice four years ago, this is the first time we’ve been together since—since a long time ago.” He pulls back to look at Bucky’s face. “I’m not explaining myself very well, am I?”_ _

__Bucky’s face is drawn into a consternated frown. “Please tell me what you mean. Just—you don’t have to treat me like a child. I’m a man, remember?”_ _

__Steve almost laughs but it turns into a hiccup. “We grew up together, back in the late 1920s. We met when you were 12 and I was 11, after I was getting beat up by some teenagers. You saved me, and then you saved me again, and again, and again. You were always saving me.”_ _

__He tells Bucky the story: the Depression, Sarah dying, moving in together—falling in love. The army. Bucky getting captured, and Steve saving him for once. Bucky falling. Steve diving into the ocean._ _

__“I thought it was fate, really. The universe had taken you away from me, but I was going to see you again. I knew it, I knew I was.”_ _

__Bucky’s eyes are shining, big as starlit oceans and twice as beautiful. Steve tells him about Hydra, about how he was captured, and then about seeing him in DC._ _

__“And then I did see you again, and I knew I had to do everything I could to get you back again.”_ _

__Bucky swallows. He brings his other hand down to clasp Steve’s, rough but warm, as much of a home as Steve’s ever known. “What I feel for you—this protectiveness, it’s like a bell ringing in my body. I feel hollowed out when I look at you, and I think about kissing you. I knew you were different, because I’ve never felt that way about a handler.”_ _

__Steve glances away. He’s not ready to close the distance between them. The next time he kisses Bucky, he wants it to be when Bucky remember who he is. “You said to me, once, when we were reunited in the war, that you’d never felt about anyone else the way you felt about me. I knew it was true, because the same thing was true of me. I love Sam and Nat—you met them in the helicarrier—but it’s different with you. You’re my soulmate.” He has to look at Bucky now, to make sure Bucky understands that it’s true, and that Steve means every word._ _

__“You’re with Sam and Nat?” Bucky doesn’t look perturbed, merely interested._ _

__“Yes, but—I don’t have to be. If you don’t want me to be, I won’t.”_ _

__Bucky shakes his head. “If they make you happy, then I don’t want you to change anything.” He glances away, chewing on his lip. “I can’t give you what you need. I thought I could—I thought I could be okay enough for you, but you have a life and I have—I have nothing.”_ _

__Steve reaches out and fits his hand to Bucky’s jaw, not turning his head, just touching him in a way he hasn’t been able to since the war. “Hey. Don’t do that, please.” Bucky’s gaze shifts back to Steve. “I don’t really have that much of a life,” Steve says, twisting his mouth into a smile._ _

__Bucky huffs out a laugh, but the spell of their combined sadness is broken. Steve sits back, pulling his shirt up to dry his cheeks. Bucky wipes his nose on his shirt sleeve. He’s still wearing Steve’s clothes, because _what else_ would he wear, and Steve likes the look of him, his solid build, thicker than he was when the war made him lean. _ _

__He’s not checking Bucky out—at least, he hopes not—but he wants to feed Bucky until Bucky can’t move._ _

__Instead he gets a text and fishes his phone out of his pocket._ _

__[Natasha, 04:23] Sam and I okay to come around? We haven’t seen you in days. Except for watching you through all the cameras in your apartment, naturally._ _

__Steve thinks about her watching him cry. He doesn’t do it often, but both she and Sam have expressed that it’s good to cry sometimes, that it’s cathartic and soul-healing. Not all the time, Sam said, because it’s not good to dwell on traumatic experiences like the love of your life falling from a train. Steve’s not so good at not dwelling._ _

__“Is it okay if Sam and Nat come over?” Steve wants Bucky’s input into everything, because wherever Bucky is, is Steve’s home._ _

__Bucky shrugs. “I guess. They’re your friends, right?”_ _

__“They are.”_ _

__“Then I don’t mind seeing them. I might go lie down if I get tired, though.”_ _

__Steve nods. It’s a fair compromise. He texts back, _Come over soon_ , and pockets his phone._ _

__“Afternoon snack?”_ _

__Bucky nods and follows Steve into the kitchen. They’re eating their sandwiches—baloney and cheese with pickle relish—when Sam and Nat come in, dusting snow off their coats, their cheeks pink from the cold._ _

__Steve pulls them both in for a hug, but they refrain from kissing him like they usually would, glancing at Bucky instead. Sam has shaved his three-week growth and Nat looks like she’s slept for once, and Steve is so happy to see them._ _

__“Hey, Bucky,” Sam says, sticking out his hand. “You might not remember me from the other day, I’m Sam.”_ _

__“I remember you,” Bucky says, shaking Sam’s hand. “And you, Nat.”_ _

__Natasha nods, her easy-going facade firmly in place. “We just wanted to come by and see how you both were. You scared us the other day.”_ _

__“I didn’t mean to,” Bucky counters, looking upset. His shirt is covered in breadcrumbs and Steve pats him down to get them off. “I didn’t mean to scare anyone.” Bucky catches Steve’s hand and holds it, either to stop Steve fussing or to ground himself in the present the way his touch did to Steve._ _

__“Hey, it’s okay,” Sam says, waving his hand as he pulls it back. “You didn’t do it on purpose. Nat means that we were worried, that’s all.” He gives Bucky that patented Sam Wilson smile. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”_ _

__Bucky relaxes at that, still holding Steve’s hand in a loose grip. His skin is blood hot, alive._ _

__Natasha glances between them. “Bucky, can I chat to you alone?”_ _

__Steve and Bucky glance at each other, both a little nervous. Steve can hear the uptick in his heartbeat, and he waits for Bucky to answer._ _

__“Yes,” Bucky says, glancing back at Natasha._ _

__“Hey, Steve,” Sam says, “why don’t we grab a coffee from downstairs?”_ _

__Steve nods, following Sam to the door, casting a look back at Bucky who is being led by Natasha to the sofa near the floor-to-ceiling windows. The sunlight casts its dying rays through the windows and over them, lighting Bucky up like a flare. He knows he has nothing to worry about with Natasha, but he wants to be with Bucky still, always. He wants to protect him, the world’s foremost assassin, who lit up at the sight of Nemo._ _

__Instead he follows Sam to the elevator and sighs._ _

__“Do you think he’s getting better?” Sam asks, in all sincerity, then adds, “because it’s okay if he’s not, you know. It’s not a failing on your part.”_ _

__“I know, I know,” Steve says, then repeats Sam’s line back to him: “Recovery isn’t linear, and it’s okay to have bad days. It’s okay to feel like you’re not getting better.”_ _

__Sam smirks. “So you have been listening.”_ _

__“Yeah, yeah.” The elevator descends and they watch the city through the glass. Steve finds himself, for the first time, anxious about something—the elevator getting stuck, or the cables snapping. “I feel like—”_ _

__Sam nods for him to go on._ _

__“What if something happens to me? It’s the first time I’ve thought that. What if something goes wrong, and I die?”_ _

__“Why are you so worried about that?”_ _

__Steve runs his hand through his hair. It’s long, too long, flopping in front of his eyes when it’s not held back by sweat and grime. “Because of Bucky. If something happens to me, then who’s going to take care of him?”_ _

__Sam tilts his head to the side, weighing up what he’s about to say. Steve knows his tells, and Sam’s about to lay some truth on him. “You know he can take care of himself. You didn’t mention him freaking out, or hurting anyone. You didn’t tell us to be wary, in fact you let us come over to see him.”_ _

__“Yeah,” Steve says, breathing out a sigh._ _

__“Which means you’re not worried about him being taken care of. You’re worried about him living without you.”_ _

__Even though Steve knew it was coming, he’s struck by the way Sam knows him, down to his very core, and can pick out the things inside him that Steve is too afraid to face up to._ _

__“That’s exactly it. I lived without him for years, and it was hell on me. I can’t do that to him.”_ _

__Sam holds his arms out for a hug and Steve goes to him, again feeling the press of Sam’s lips to his temple, hands stroking down Steve’s back. Distantly, Steve thinks that Bucky’s hands are not the only ones who make him feel at home._ _

__The elevator hits the ground floor and they walk across the lobby to the coffee shop. Sam orders a macchiato and Steve gets lost in all the choices, the words on the menu board not quite entering into his brain right, as though they’re being filtered through gauze._ _

__He needs to get out of his head._ _

__Sam takes pity on him and orders a hot chocolate, because no matter what mood he’s in, Steve has never once in his life refused a hot chocolate. They take their seats in the corner near the dessert display. Even though this coffee shop is for Tower employees only, as the events of the past year has shown, you never know who’s listening._ _

__“It’s hard to adjust to civilian life,” Sam continues. “Give him time.”_ _

__Steve nods. “What about you? How are you adjusting to civilian life?”_ _

__Sam laughs. “I’ll be honest, I was doing okay until our man-hunt. It really set me back to the Air Force days of suppressing my emotions and thinking of every day as my last. I’m just happy we’re back. I can start planning for the things I want to do again.”_ _

__Steve noticed—of course he did; when you’re sleeping in the same bed as someone most nights, it’s ignorant not to—and he’s glad Sam can see it just as well as he can. They both struggled. They both had to fight to keep both feet on the ground. It’s just that Sam can literally choose not to._ _

__Steve smirks. “And what are your grand plans?”_ _

__Sam shrugs and takes a sip of his coffee. “Might join the Avengers. You never know, stranger things have happened.”_ _

__“I think it would suit you.” Steve reaches his foot out and nudges Sam’s ankle. Sam hooks his foot around Steve’s in retaliation, and it’s comfortable, comforting, to have someone who knows him so well and who chooses him again and again to choose him still. “I’m sure you’ll love the attention.” Steve huffs out a laugh as he says it._ _

__Sam rubs his goatee. “I am a bit of an attention skank.”_ _

__“And you steal the covers, so put that on your resume.”_ _

__“Oh, yeah? What did yours say? ‘Steve Rogers, little shit from Brooklyn, here to raise hell’?”_ _

__“I will neither confirm nor deny,” Steve says, raising his coffee mug, but his mystique is undone by the fact that what he’s taking a sip of is hot chocolate._ _

__By the time they get back up to Steve’s suite, he’s almost forgotten about the impending dread sitting in his stomach like a stone. Nat and Bucky aren’t in the kitchen anymore; they’re in Bucky’s bed, Nat sitting up against the wall, Bucky’s head in her lap as she croons to him._ _

__Bucky blinks slowly up at Steve as he and Sam come in, reminiscent of the way cats blink when they want to show affection._ _

__Steve sits at the end of the bed and reaches his hand out at the same time Bucky does. They were always in sync, and their past echoes through the way they look at each other, Steve feeling it the way he knows it: Bucky is his whole world, and the world spins for them._ _

__“I want to do it,” Bucky says._ _

__Steve knows what he means, but he needs to hear it in Bucky’s own words. “Do what, Buck?”_ _

__“I want to try and get my memories back with the—thing Tony made.” He sits up and shakes out his hair, as if to clear his head. “I want them back.”_ _

__When he glances at Steve, his eyes are clear and determined._ _

__“Okay, Buck,” Steve says, feeling a sense of peace overcome him. Bucky is making this decision, and Steve is going to back him no matter what. “Anything you want to do.”_ _

__Bucky gives him a watery smile._ _

__“JARVIS?”_ _

__“Yes, Captain?” comes JARVIS’s disembodied voice._ _

__“Can you call Tony, please?”_ _

__“Right away, Captain.”_ _

__They’re still looking at each other like lovesick teenagers, which Steve supposes they could be—if the world hadn’t been so cruel as to separate them, they would have lived their whole lives, died, and been buried together. _It’s not too late_ , Steve’s brain supplies. This love between them, this pragma that the Greeks spoke of, has carried Steve through the last Century, and he’s here now, Bucky is here now, Sam and Nat as well, and they can be together, finally, in a future where it’s not illegal, where they can love openly, and they can be happy._ _

__When Tony arrives, they’ve moved to the dining table, with Steve on one side of Bucky and Nat on the other, while Sam stands to watch over them all._ _

__“Boys, girl,” Tony says, tipping his head towards them. “Are we ready to do this thing or what?”_ _

__“Just get over here,” Steve says, and Tony comes over to stand near Bucky._ _

__“You okay with this, bub?”_ _

__Bucky nods._ _

__“It’s not going to hurt, I promise. It’ll be like a little shock, but it won’t hurt. Could make you freak out though, so I’m counting on your bodyguards to make sure you don’t sock me one.”_ _

__“I can’t make any promises,” Steve says, and Bucky huffs._ _

__“I’m ready,” Bucky says. He lays his palms flat on the table as Tony puts the helmet on Bucky’s head and holds up his phone. He taps the screen a few times as Bucky forces himself to breathe slower and deeper than normal. It takes Steve back to the war, camping in a dugout while shells flew overhead, Bucky psyching himself up to get back out there. He got scared sometimes—they all did, it was hell—but Steve only got scared for Bucky._ _

__He’s scared for Bucky now, and it feels familiar to worry about him, after a year of non-stop worry._ _

__Tony presses his phone screen and the helmet makes a crackle. Bucky jumps a little, convulsing as the helmet continues to send shocks through him, whiteknuckling the edge of the table. Steve puts his hands on Bucky’s arm and shoulder, trying to ground him, but it passes in a minute, and then Bucky hangs his head as the helmet flicks off._ _

__Tony takes the helmet back._ _

__“Thanks, Tony,” Steve says, and Tony waves a hand in reply._ _

__Bucky’s head radiates heat, his hair warm when Steve puts his hand there. He takes deep lungfuls of air, his body rocking with the movement._ _

__“Hey, hey,” Steve says, stroking his hair the way he would do when Bucky got sick. It was rare that Bucky got sick when Steve didn’t, and Steve took all the chances he could get to make Bucky feel better. “Buck, it’s okay.”_ _

__“Steve,” Bucky says. When he turns his head to look, Bucky’s eyes are huge and watery, the palest blue. His hand reaches out to pet down the side of Steve’s face with his bruised and scabbed-over knuckles. The scratch of them through Steve’s beard is devastating._ _

__“I’m here, Buck,” he says, and Bucky smiles, wider than anything he’s done since Steve’s seen him again, a smile that brings tears to both of their eyes._ _

__“I remember everything, I’m—” His expression dims and he presses two fingers to the places on Steve’s face where his fists hit. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”_ _

__Steve leans forward until their foreheads are touching. “It wasn’t you. It was Hydra, it wasn’t you.”_ _

__Bucky takes in a shaky breath and pulls Steve’s hands to him. They stay like that for a while, until Sam, Nat and Tony have moved away to give them privacy, until the light through the windows starts to wane and the sun goes down, until it’s just them and their love for each other._ _

* * *

__Bucky sleeps in Steve’s bed that night. He seems to crave the contact that they share, curling around Steve like a vine, their limbs intertwining until they become one. Steve falls asleep thinking of 1941, when even in the random heat waves that plagued New York they would lie like this, trapping warmth between them, sweating through the sheets. It was bliss._ _

__It’s bliss now, reunited once more, plastered together, the A/C turned up so that the only heat in the room is under the duvet. Bucky wakes first, and Steve wakes when Bucky extricates himself from the two headed monster they’ve made. Steve can’t help but reach out for him again._ _

__“Hey,” Bucky says, so incredibly fond that it makes Steve’s heart grow three sizes. “I’m here, it’s okay.”_ _

__Steve slumps back down into the bed. “You good?”_ _

__“I’m good.” Bucky strokes his knuckles down Steve’s temple and Steve sighs at the contact. Bucky leaves for the bathroom and it gives Steve a chance to wake up properly._ _

__He’s checking his phone, mostly just for something to do, as Bucky comes back in. He’s wearing Steve’s clothes again, still, but he’s brushed his hair back from his face and he smells like Steve’s soap._ _

__“Sam and Nat send their love.”_ _

__Bucky eases back under the covers and Steve tosses his phone back on the nightstand. “We should talk,” Bucky says, and then, “Don’t give me that look.”_ _

__Steve tries to rearrange his face into a neutral expression. “What look?”_ _

__Bucky sighs and pulls Steve around until he’s lying on Bucky’s chest. He can hear Bucky’s heartbeat, a steady _whump-whump_ that Steve’s own heart matches. “I remember everything.”_ _

__“That’s good.” Steve has no idea where this conversation is headed. The last time they had to talk was in 1943 when Bucky got his draft letter. It’s easier to have it when they’re not looking at each other, though._ _

__“I remember how we used to be and—I don’t think I can be like that anymore. At least not right this second.”_ _

__Steve feels his heart creep up to his throat. “That’s fine.”_ _

__“I’m not the Bucky you remember. That Bucky is gone, and I may look a little bit like him, but I don’t want you to think I am him. Are you getting me?”_ _

__Steve nods, head moving against Bucky’s chest. “Yeah, I get you.”_ _

__Bucky’s hand smoothes down Steve’s sleep hair, running his metal fingers through it. “I missed you. You have no idea. God, Stevie. I think I died in that chair but the thought of you brought me back.”_ _

__Steve turns his head until his face is hidden in Bucky’s chest. “Please don’t leave me again. I can’t lose you anymore.”_ _

__It’s muffled, but Bucky seems to hear it well enough. He places his finger under Steve’s chin to tip his head back. “I’m not going anywhere,” Bucky says. His eyes are so big and sincere that Steve can’t help but believe him._ _

* * *

__It’s been three weeks since Bucky’s memories came back, and he fits into Steve’s life as though he never left it. Steve wakes up, and Bucky is there, his face creased by the pillow cover. Steve goes for a run, and Bucky comes with him, trading banter back and forth as Steve kicks his ass up and down the UN route. Steve takes a nap, and Bucky joins him. Steve is so over the moon about it that he can’t stop smiling._ _

__Bucky always took care of Steve when they were younger that Steve feels delighted he gets to return the favour. Steve was such an asshole about it though, and Bucky lets Steve dole out his medications and put blankets on him when he falls asleep on the sofa._ _

__“You could learn a thing or two from me about being a good patient,” Bucky says, after Steve brings it up. It’s such a Bucky thing to say that Steve files it away in his brain for all the bad days._ _

__Steve is making jam when Bucky appears in the kitchen, lulled by the offer of cooked fruit. He puts his head on Steve’s shoulder to watch Steve stir the pot._ _

__“I saved the last strawberry for you,” Steve says, pulling it over. He turns his head as Bucky smiles, nothing like the man in the helicarrier, and everything like the man Steve wants to spend the rest of his life with._ _

**Author's Note:**

> come find me at twitter and tumblr solarfemm if you can stand me regressing back into my ten year old supernatural phase


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